


until the next one

by heyitsk



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Gen, bro!fic, two and a half dudes on a lazy road trip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-21
Updated: 2012-07-21
Packaged: 2017-11-10 10:05:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/465070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyitsk/pseuds/heyitsk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>pepe and marcelo drive an RV down the california coast in the off-season. enzo comes along for the ride.</p>
            </blockquote>





	until the next one

**Author's Note:**

> originally published [here](http://kfunk22.livejournal.com/10366.html#cutid1), July 15, 2012.

Pepe stands bleary-eyed and half-asleep before a departures board at Madrid-Barajas, ruing how easily that curly-haired imp had managed to talk him into this. And so quickly after Portugal's exit from the Euros, too. 

If he's honest, though, Pepe knows there's not much Marcelo couldn't talk him into with a little bit of coaxing. They're hermanos, plain and simple. And even though Marcelo's five years younger than him, Pepe's grateful for whatever intervened to bring them together. He's never had a friend like Marcelo before, and he doesn't suspect he ever will again. 

Besides, with him around, what room is there for anyone else? 

He fishes around his carry-on in search of the Ambien Cris had slipped him at lunch the day before, commenting, "I suspect you're going to need to be well rested for this." 

Pepe can't fault his logic. 

+

Marcelo and Enzo await him at the arrivals gate when he touches down in San Francisco. Pepe hadn't thought to pack much, just the one bag. Marcelo, meanwhile, has two massive roller suitcases, which Pepe eyes with judgment. 

"Whatever, tío, I was packing for two," Marcelo shrugs as he engulfs Pepe in an enthusiastic hug. Enzo, not wanting to miss out on the action, wraps himself around Pepe's right leg. 

The tension of the flight rolls of Pepe's shoulders and he feels instantly at ease. He's never enjoyed flying, one drawback in a job of endless perks, but there's not much that being with Marcelo and his son can't make better.

When they break apart and start for the taxi stand, Pepe observes, "I can't believe Clarisse is letting you out of her sight with him. Brave woman, her." 

"Whatevs! We both know I'm totally awesome at this whole father business, so shut it."

"I know," Pepe says as he slings an arm over Marcelo's shoulder. "I'm just teasing you." 

"Besides," Marcelo says, as he gives him a lopsided grin, "My wife trusts you'll keep us out of trouble."

At this, the two friends start to roar with laughter. Enzo, meanwhile, is starting to get impatient and looks exasperatedly between Papa and Tío. He pulls determinedly at Marcelo's arm, attempting to drag them out of the terminal by sheer force of will alone. 

Pepe and Marcelo only laugh harder. 

+

"Do you even know how to drive this thing?" Pepe pauses for a moment before adding, "I mean, sometimes I have a hard time believing you can even reach the pedals in a regular vehicle." 

Marcelo stands there with his arms crossed sternly against his chest, "Are you quite finished yet?"

Pepe shrugs, lets out an exaggerated sigh and opens the door. He looks warily at Marcelo before a wide smile overtakes his face and he dashes up the steps. "I've got top bunk!"

Marcelo rolls his eyes and looks down at Enzo.

"Tío's funny!" he says. 

"Funny looking, sure," Marcelo smiles fondly at his son, who bursts into uncontrollable giggles. Marcelo leans down and hoists Enzo over his shoulder. As his son's laughter melts into excited squeals, he steps onboard.

\+ 

"Where to?"

"Wherever the road takes us, hombre."

"Go! Go! Go!" Enzo cheers.

+

They find an RV-ground bordering a llama ranch just south of Mendocino that evening. Their neighbors suggest a sunset hike, pointing them to a trail of golden reeds and conifer trees of all kinds. Crisp pine needles crack underfoot and a salty scent thickens the air. Flocks of pelicans fly overhead as they approach the craggy bluffs, and the Pacific rolls in thundering waves below them. Enzo delights in the pink and yellow blooms on the succulent vines that grip the cliffside. 

They grill chicken sausages and fresh vegetables over the campstove for dinner. A Spanish-speaking family parked a few spots to the left recognizes them and offers to split their six-pack of Pacifica. Their kids hit it off immediately with Enzo, and the adults talk comfortably as they watch the kids play together in the glow of the bonfire. 

Pepe hasn't felt this relaxed in ages. 

+

The next morning they drive north to the Redwoods. When Pepe has reception again, he pulls over to call Sofia and check in. 

"I haven't read any news about you burning the Redwoods down yet, so I suppose things are on track?" she ribs him playfully. 

"Well, truthfully, we haven't made it that far north yet so I wouldn't rule anything out."

Sofia laughs and laughs and the baby kicks in her stomach. Pepe thinks, at this moment, that he's never been happier. 

+

They drive through Humboldt State Park, putter along Avenue of the Giants and hike through hours of what Pepe can only describe as truly majestic trees. Marcelo nearly exhausts his phone battery taking so many photographs and posting Instagrams. Pepe's not sure how many pictures he's posed for today, with his arms spread wide against the mammoth trunk of a Redwood tree. Enzo bubbles with laughter, zig-zagging joyously around the forest floor.

+

They pull off the side of the road somewhere in the middle of Sonoma County. Row upon row of grapes speckle the mountainsides and wildflowers bloom recklessly and pervasively. 

After Enzo falls asleep that night, Marcelo and Pepe stay up late, speaking in hushed voices as they sit in canvas camp chairs underneath the night sky. 

"What are you feeling about next season?" Marcelo asks curiously. 

"Top priority is Champions League. Another Liga title would be nice, but I'd sacrifice it in a heartbeat for Champions League," Pepe confesses. 

"I'm greedy. I want them all." 

"No shit," Pepe says, and laughs. 

+

They buy strawberries and cherries off the side of the road. And avocados. Seven for $1; Pepe's money conversion skills aren't the sharpest but even he knows that's cheap. As they drive south, they hug the coastline, stopping off at Mavericks in Half Moon Bay. They're not lucky enough to catch any surfers. But after watching a number of surf videos Marcelo finds on YouTube, all three of them stare in wonder as the waves curl and roar. 

+

Pepe really enjoys driving the RV. Despite seeming cumbersome to maneuver, it turns out to be less complicated than piloting a four-door sedan. He imagines it to be similar to captaining a very large boat that coasts steadily along a current. As the miles accumulate, he begins to understand the possibilities his father sees in a life on the road.

The windows are wide open and the air gusts in wildly. In the rearview mirror, Pepe glimpses Marcelo and Enzo at the open window, pointing at the sights along the roadside. Their hair dances in the breeze, and they bop along unconsciously to the samba that Pepe's got on the speakers. 

Pepe smiles to himself, redirects his attention to the road and accelerates.

\+ 

"What's that?" Pepe asks, eyeing the plastic bag Marcelo returns with after fueling the tank. 

"Road food," Marcelo grins mischievously. "Enjoy it while you can!"

Marcelo tosses him the bag and Pepe investigates warily. All hesitation goes out the window when he spies the Slim Jims. 

+

They stroll around the boardwalk in Santa Cruz, Enzo excitedly leading them from one amusement ride to the next. They eat popsicles, then stand their ground as the ocean waves pummel the shore and suck the sand out from around their feet. Pepe swipes at a big streak of sunscreen on Enzo's forehead before sweeping him over his shoulder as they begin the long march back to the coach.

+

That night, just north of Monterey, they feast on fish tacos piled high with guacamole and salsa verde. Afterwards, they roast s'mores over a small bonfire. They eat until they're sated and lazy; Marcelo doesn't even bother to wash the smears of chocolate off of Enzo's face before he passes out, face down, in bed. 

Outside, the two of them split a six-pack of Modelo, allowing the lively thrum of the nocturnal world to fill the comfortable silence between them. They remain that way for the rest of the evening, long after the fire burns down to embers.

+

While Marcelo takes Enzo on a tour of the Monterey Aquarium, Pepe attempts to get in a round of golf at Spyglass Hill Golf Course in Pebble Beach. He's by no means a professional golfer, but he's always enjoyed a round. And when in Rome, right? 

Perhaps not. He plays so terribly his rent-a-caddy starts to look uncomfortable. He lasts for an hour and a half before pulling out his phone on the ninth hole. 

"Where are you guys?" he asks as soon as Marcelo answers. 

Marcelo snorts with laughter, "You're that out of shape already?" 

"Shut up. This course, I swear. It's almost physically impossible."

"Whatever you say, tío. We'll meet you at the clubhouse in an hour."

Pepe abandons the green entirely after the 12th hole, in favor of brilliant ocean views and a coterie of harbor seals sunning themselves on algae-crusted rocks. He arrives at the clubhouse just as Marcelo and Enzo show up, stuffs a wad of bills in his caddy's hand and disappears into the RV. 

"Let's roll, hombres," Pepe urges. 

Over lunch, Enzo regales Pepe with tales of seahorses and jellyfish.

+

Marcelo navigates them along the twisting road to Big Sur. 

Pepe and Enzo stare out of the open windows, smiling widely at the landscape. The ocean is such an unfathomable shade of blue, and Enzo takes to calling it Mermaid Blue. Mist hangs heavily in the mountains above, and the scent of Eucalyptus trees saturates the air. Pepe's content to sit and take in whatever nature will allow. Enzo seems so, too.

They pull over several times to observe the scenery and digitalize it for posterity. Marcelo curses his spotty reception whenever he's unable to upload a new shot to his feed. 

+

The next morning they hike a trail in Big Sur State Park, not far from the Henry Miller Library. Pepe leads them deeper and deeper into the woods, not realizing until too late that he's led them astray. They spend the next few hours anxiously wandering around in circles, Enzo's soft wails sorely testing their patience. Eventually, they encounter a pair of backpackers who set them off in the right direction. 

Marcelo grumbles the entire way back.

+

The elephant seal rookery outside San Luis Obispo works a fine cure for everyone's grumps. 

+

Hearst Castle's up next, and both Pepe and Marcelo marvel at the elaborateness of the excess. Luxury is something neither one of them is a stranger to at this point, yet the media baron's castle in the hills is on another level entirely. Enzo runs excitedly about the grounds, and Pepe and Marcelo hurry after him in an attempt to keep his hands off the glistening ancient statuary dotting the grounds. 

No one is impressed when Marcelo "accidentally" pushes Pepe into the porticoed marble pool overlooking the hillside. Once he's emerged, soaking wet and ego smarting, security marches them swiftly toward the exit. 

+

Life onboard the RV has proceeded suspiciously well, so Pepe can't say he's terribly surprised when the toilet backs up. Enzo's to blame, having attempted to "flush" a generous handful of semi-precious stones they'd collected earlier at Moonstone Beach.

Pepe doesn't even feel guilty when he leaves the loo with his arms raised in submission. Marcelo can handle this one. 

+

Feeling refreshed?

Confused, Pepe re-reads Cris' text, trying to decipher its meaning. He gives up, replies I'm not following you.

It's a few minutes before Cris gets back to him. 

Someone sold pix of 'Celo throwing you into a pool at some museum. Have I ever told you that you're truly graceful when you dive? :)

A miffed Pepe stalks off in search of Marcelo. 

+

They spend the night in Avila Beach, parked down near the pier. Enzo delights in the harbor seals and pelicans that speckle the rocky shoreline, while Pepe negotiates with a dock attendant and finds them passage on a boat the next morning. 

They're up before dawn, and motoring out of the harbor not long after the sun begins to lighten the sky. Marcelo and Enzo team up and pull in a few rockfish, but it's Pepe who comes away the big winner with a 24-pound barracuda. They gut, fillet and grill that sucker for lunch. 

But not before Pepe insists that Marcelo snap a shot of him with his take and post it online. 

Sofia texts him shortly thereafter, What a catch. Another arrives in quick succession: P.S. I meant you ♥

\+ 

They spend the rest of the afternoon frolicking in the surf, and their plans to head south are derailed when Marcelo catches sight of a wellness center with mineral hot springs. Pepe isn't about to complain too loudly after Marcelo books them in overnight; the bathroom in the RV hasn't been the same since Enzo tried to turn the toilet into a rock tumbler. 

+

They wander down to neighboring Pismo Beach, where they enjoy a dinner of breakfast burritos. Afterwards, Enzo has an incident with salt water taffy. Marcelo winces, obviously reminded of his own recent mouth gear, so Pepe steers Enzo off to the bathroom with a bottle of water and tries his best. 

+

"You think we're going to lose anyone this summer? Aside from Altintop, that is," Pepe wonders later while they're unwinding from the day.

"No, the mister wouldn't stand for it," Marcelo laughs. 

"But what about Ricky?"

Marcelo frowns, "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." 

Pepe shoots him an impatient look. 

"What? Why waste time fretting about things that haven't happened instead of enjoying the things that have?" Marcelo reaches out and squeezes his shoulder, then stands up and heads for bed. 

+

Pepe pilots them lazily down the coast to Los Angeles. No one's in any particular hurry, so they stop at Zuma Beach in Malibu to watch the surfers shred some serious pounders. 

They lounge lazily on beach towels, for the most part unbothered. Pepe finds a fan in a blonde tousle-haired surfer who's got the Real Madrid crest decaled on his board. He's got an extra longboard on the roof rack of his Jeep and spends the next half-hour giving Pepe a lesson. 

Pepe's a natural, soaring at full throttle as he walks back and forth on the board to maintain his footing. He takes curves easily, shifting in concert with the wave. He feels superhuman. After it's over, he takes a moment to savor the otherworldly rush before paddling out to catch another. 

When it's Marcelo's turn, he manages to hold steady for a few feet before face-planting into the soup. 

On shore, Pepe and Enzo laugh so hard they cry. 

+

They return the RV in Venice, and make their way to the beachfront condo they've leased for their last night. As Pepe and Marcelo sink exhaustedly into cushioned wicker seats on the balcony overlooking the boardwalk, Enzo claps excitedly at the throngs of people strolling unhurriedly below. Marcelo promises him ice cream if he takes a nap. 

It works like a charm. Pepe raises an eyebrow as Marcelo gets up to follow behind Enzo, who makes a beeline for his bed. 

Marcelo shrugs it off with a smile, "Don't knock it 'til you've tried it, hombre. You'll see soon enough." 

+

When Enzo wakes up, they head down the boardwalk. 

Pepe stops to pump iron at the original Gold's Gym. Marcelo takes what Pepe thinks must be the most unflattering picture ever and hangs it online for the world to see. 

They watch graffiti artists tag palm trees near the skate park before Marcelo convinces a 15-year-old kid to let him take a turn on his board. He's much smoother on wheels than he is in the water; soon, he has the crowd cheering him on as he flashes up ramps and down, skirting slyly by other boarders and catching air on his turns. 

On their way to grab some Middle Eastern food for dinner, a group of young boys asks them for a kick-about, so they take to the beach and host an impromptu clinic. 

Enzo's antics with the ball make even the sternest of the youngsters cave with a grin.

+

They stay up late into the night talking. Pepe'll head home tomorrow and off on holiday with Sofia soon after. Marcelo and Enzo will return to Brazil and start getting ready for the Olympics. Conversation drifts and swirls, mirroring the lazy ocean breeze. Palm trees rustle rhythmically in the darkness. 

Eventually, they come around to what Pepe's been trying his hardest to avoid thinking about for a while now. For the past six months, give or take. 

"So yeah. The whole father thing. Should I be worried? Because I'm kinda worried here."

Marcelo laughs at him, leans over in his chair to slap him reassuringly on the knee. "Hermano, you'll be fine. It's a work in progress, you'll figure it out along the way."

Marcelo sits back, takes a pull of his Sierra Nevada and smirks. "Besides, there's no way Sofia would ever allow you to be terrible at it." 

+

The next day when they're at the airport, set to veer off in different directions for their gates, Pepe swoops down and wraps Enzo in a powerful hug. He squirms and whimpers, but kisses Pepe on the cheek and mumbles between sniffles, "Bye, Tío Pepe." 

Pepe reaches out, fist bumps Marcelo. "Greatest trip ever, hermano," he says. 

"Until the next one." Marcelo's accompanying grin is all Pepe needs to know it's true.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. remember [the interview](http://www.realmadrid.com/cs/Satellite/en/09_Septiembre_Actualidad_11-12/1330065850820/noticia/Entrevista/1330065850820.htm?idEsp=1330050653915) in which Pepe says he wants to travel the world with Marcelo in a caravan? 
> 
> 2\. definitely check out [some](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Muq9XM1BpoA&feature=related) [vids](http://www.dailysurfvideos.com/videos/mavericks-monsters-541) of the surfing at Mavericks. it will boggle your mind. btw, [surf videos](http://www.dailysurfvideos.com/) in general are pretty dang awesome. just sayin'.
> 
> 3\. [marcelo's instagram](http://web.stagram.com/n/marcelo12_rm/), in case you haven't yet had the pleasure.


End file.
